


Can You Pour Some Love

by oneoneandone



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:55:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28297872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneoneandone/pseuds/oneoneandone
Summary: She keeps falling in love.A trade response.
Relationships: Kelley O'Hara/Emily Sonnett
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Can You Pour Some Love

**Author's Note:**

> There could possibly be an “after” or a “before” to this at some point. Idk.

“Did you mean it?”

Kelley stumbles back a little at the question. It’s not the Ubereats delivery she was expecting when she answered the door.

“Did you mean it, what you said on Instagram,” Emily steps forward, steps just close enough that Kelley can see the laugh lines in the corners of her eyes. Those blue eyes that have always been able to cut right through her, always been able to steal her breath away with just the slightest, heated look.

And Kelley grips the wood of the doorframe tight, knuckles white, as she looks at the woman she’s more than sure she’ll never get over. She looks older, somehow, like the last ten months have lasted half again as long for her, like she’s lived years and years since they last saw each other.

All the way back before the world turned itself inside out. Three trades, one international signing, and a global pandemic ago.

The older woman opens the door wider, inviting Emily in out of the cold, but the blonde just curls in tighter on herself, hands digging deeper into the pockets of the puffy vest she’s wearing over an old UVA hoodie, a pair of Adidas sweats with a hole in the knee, and tan Uggs, so old they’re almost grey now with dirt and dust and scuffs. And Kelley’s heart aches to look at her, this woman she’d held so close, laughed with, made love with, started to plan a future with.

This woman she’d broken.

“Did you mean it,” she whispers again, and the pain is there in her voice, the same pain that had been there all those months ago, that night when Kelley had called it off. And there’s a part of the brunette that wonders if this is how Emily has sounded since then, so timid and so small.

She hates that she’s done this, that she’s made the woman she loves feel so small.

“Yes,” Kelley whispers, and then repeats the word, louder, firmer, so that there can be no doubt. “Yes,” she says, looking down at the woman standing there shivering on her porch. “I meant it, Em.”

She wants to reach out, wants to run her fingers over that soft curve of Emily’s jaw, up into her hair. Wants to pull the woman close and cover that sweet mouth with her own, promising her heart again, making all the same broken promises again, promising to be better, different.

Promising to be the woman Emily deserves, the woman she deserves to want to be.

But Emily just takes a shuddering breath in, and turns to leave, already jogging halfway down the salty steps before Kelley can manage to reach out a hand, form the words.

“Wait,” she calls after the younger woman, and it doesn’t matter that her feet are bare or her hair is still wet from the shower she’d taken after training. It doesn’t matter that it’s below freezing out or that there’s salt and snow and ice on the ground. All that matters is that this is a chance, and it might be her last one.

She slips, because of course she does. Because what else could you expect when you’re quite literally watching your heart walk away. She slips and then there’s the sky, dull with clouds, above her, the white hot heat of pain and the ice cold feel of ice spreading through her body. And Kelley can’t help it, the tears begin to form without her permission as she lays there, broken-hearted and aching on the icy concrete walk.

“Just can’t help falling for me, can you,” Emily says, her voice just amused enough to cover the worry, and then there’s a hand under Kelley’s head, cradling her close, careful not to move her too much. “You idiot,” she whispers as she looks down at the older woman, “I was just going to my car, to get my bag.”

“Your bag?” Kelley hates the way her voice sounds—froggy with tears—hates the way she sniffles in the cold as Emily gently feels the back of her head where she’d smacked it against the bottom step.

There’s a displeased expression on the blonde’s face, and Kelley hisses as those fingers skim over something that hurts, the searing heat of the pain making her forget about the cold for a moment. “My bag, idiot,” Emily takes off her vest and holds it against the injured woman’s head. “You know, like, full of the things I’ll need to make this place feel like home?”

And maybe it’s the pain or maybe it’s the cold, but Kelley can’t follow the thread of the other woman’s thoughts. “Home?” she holds the cool, puffy vest to her head and lets Emily help her stand, holding onto her arm tight when her knees buckle underneath her for a moment.

“Home,” Emily whispers softly, walking them both to the car there at the street, and Kelley can see, right before she’s helped carefully into the passenger seat, the back stuffed full of boxes and duffel bags. “Because if you meant it, then I’m not letting you go again. We made it to the same club finally, after all these years. I’m not going to let a stupid, stupid, stupid fight from months ago stand in the way of loving you for the rest of my life.” And her eyes, as she crouches next to the car, leaning in to buckle Kelley’s seatbelt, are concerned but also so, so full of love.

“I didn’t mean it, all those things I said. About you not wanting it enough, not loving me enough,” Kelley says, the words echoing through the fog in her head, her hand feeling like it’s underwater as she lifts it to touch Emily’s lips. “I just wanted you with me,” she whispers, “not across the country, not across the ocean.” And Emily nods, gives her palm a gentle kiss.

“I know,” she says, pressing Kelley’s hand to chest, where her heart beats so strong for this woman, the woman she loves. “We’re going to make it better, we’re going to be better.” And Emily rises, Kelley’s keys dangling from her fingers, and the brunette can’t remember when she gave them over, where Emily could have gotten them from. “Just as soon as we get that head looked at,” she smiles and closes the door, jogging over to the house again to lock it up before returning to the car and slipping into the driver’s seat.

“I love you,” Kelley smiles at her, the words a little slurred, and Emily swallows hard, her head a swirl of love and fear, gratitude and worry.

But she takes Kelley’s hand as she pulls out onto the street, the familiar gesture reassuringly “I know, baby,” she whispers, “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> “Bartender,” James Blunt


End file.
